Between Tides and Turns: What Surfing Taught Me About Trusting My Intuition

There’s a moment you’ve felt it-paddling out, the horizon wide and open, the sea beneath you whispering its rhythm. You’re still, buoyant, listening: is that swell? Should you wait? Should you paddle? When you finally commit to turning your board and releasing into the wave, you don’t analyse anymore. You feel. You trust. You go.

Surfing taught me that intuition isn’t some mystical gift reserved for gurus and mystics-it’s your body’s wisdom, your ocean-cycled self, your voice under saltwater. And for women who live in the water, for those who dive deep into lines, currents, and shifts, that felt-knowing is gold.

When I first started surfing, I watched a lot. I watched other women glide across waves. I watched the line‑ups, the paddlers, the switch‑ups. I tracked where the white water died, where the line walled. But what I didn’t watch was myself. I didn’t watch how I felt when a wave rose behind me. I didn’t watch what my body did when I paused. I didn’t watch the tiny “yes” inside that said go.

One day at a reef break-wind stiff, tide dropping, the set line thin-I hesitated. I watched another surfer take off ahead of me and ride to the sand. I thought I’d wait for a better wave. But something inside nudged me and I paddled anyway. I dropped in, chopped through the face and popped up. For a few seconds I rode, breath catching, smile lit. Then I wiped out. Hard. Board bounced, tail slammed, reef loomed. My instinct led me in-but my hesitation cost me.

When I surfaced I realised the lesson: Intuition doesn’t always mean perfect execution. It means momentary trust. It means responding in the instant, not analysing. It means catching the swell inside you and deciding to paddle before you rationalise.

In surfing, as in life, the turns matter. Not just the ones you made—but the ones you almost made. The ones you skirted. The ones you ignored. And the ones you answered.

When you sit on your board and the ocean’s pulse echoes under you, your body knows. Your breath knows. Your skin knows. The tide line, the shifting wind, the swell racing in-they all whisper. But you have to quiet your mind enough to hear.

Here are the ways surfing sharpened my intuition-and helped me bring that clarity into everyday life:

Practice before decision
When the waves are pumping, you don’t hover in uncertainty-you paddle. You test the water. You feel the balance between the horizon and your board. You learn by doing. Life works the same. Intuition strengthens when you act, when you lean into the “I think I should” and discover how your body responds to movement.

“Yes” in your body
Before I committed to a drop, I’d check my board, my stance, my wind. But the real check was inside: Do I feel open? Do I feel steady? That quiet yes is your body’s nod. Trust it. Outside of the surf, ask your body: Do I feel ready? Do I want this? Your body may show you faster than your mind.

Mistakes don’t mean failure
I wiped out plenty. I paddled the wrong line. I missed take‑offs. But each error taught me something about how my body felt when I delayed or rushed. The ocean doesn’t punish you—it teaches you. Your intuition will misfire sometimes. That’s part of the ride.

Tune into your environment
Surfing is sensory: you hear the swell, see the glint of wind, feel the board shift. These cues aren’t just external-they’re internal. Your gut is built to notice. When you carry that awareness off the board-into relationships, jobs, how you talk to yourself—you begin to live with more alignment.

Let go of logic when it stalls you
There were days I over‑thought every swell, comparing it, measuring it, delaying the drop. And then the wave passed. Surfing taught me: your best chance is rarely in the pause. In life, this means letting intuition lead when logic freezes you. Try it: sense a yes, then paddle.

Trusting your intuition is a practice, not a destination. The sea will keep teaching you. The next time you hesitate, sit for a beat. Ask your body. Tune your breath. Then turn and ride.

You aren’t just catching waves. You’re answering them.

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